


Battery Acid

by rainbowolfe



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Eventual Romance, Gen, Overwatch - Freeform, Redemption, eventual ships but ill tag them as i go, except for the ones who arent, in which mostly everyones friends
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-19
Updated: 2017-02-19
Packaged: 2018-09-25 16:49:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9830717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainbowolfe/pseuds/rainbowolfe
Summary: Overwatch is always looking for new recruits. This covert operation could use all the help it could get combating Talon and other terrorist forces. And they're always big on... redemption of a sorts. Roadrash is a criminal with an expiration date, and they're just trying to go legit... as far as everyone else is concerned.





	

**Author's Note:**

> It's been a good while since I wrote fanfiction... let alone fanfiction including Canon Characters. I'll try my best, but no promises.

Talia was a simple criminal. They kept mostly to themselves, stayed out of the public eye, and struck down anyone who tried to stand in their way. They were one of the younger Junkers who got plucked up by the US military. However, they were unable to properly “domesticate” them and they went rouge. They were given the codename Roadrash and labelled a criminal.

Talia wanted to leave their affiliates on the claims that they wanted to “build their own label” and “be their own boss”. Their polite resignation was vetoed by the higher ups, and they did not take the news well. Talia went MIA with a bang, brutally murdering their final client and going on the run. It wasn’t hard to get rid of any tracking devices hidden in their military-provided tech, but it wasn’t easy either.

Worth it, though.

They started off as an irrelevant nuisance, never warranting anything more than police intervention. They were caught maybe once, but managed to escape before the military came to pick them up. Naturally, they reverted back to their old habits and became a significant problem for anyone unfortunate enough to pop up on their radar. First they were just a thief, but then they started getting hired by organizations with actual power. Sure they still stole, but instead of snatching up shiny jewelry from the nearest shop, they were partaking in dangerous information and large loads of drugs. 

Talia has fond memories of all their work, especially with the bigger organizations. They never stayed for more than a few months at most, and some were even hesitant to hire someone who’s had their hands in everything. 

But they were just too good at their job to pass up sometimes. 

Talon, Viskhar, Lumerico… They’d worked for all of those companies at least once. But more often than not, they were doing work for some no-name gang or fancy corporation. Suits seemed to be big on insurance fraud these days.

But regardless of the dirty work they did, Talia was living a content life as a criminal. Despite having a “home base” of sorts in an abandoned warehouse in Canada, they were consistently on the move. “S’the life of a road pirate,” was their motto. It’s not the best life to live, but it was better than living in Junkertown. In fact, Talia could go as far as to say they’re living the good life.

At least… they were. 

It was the middle of the night when a drop-ship landed in a secluded field near the city. Shrouded by the tall grass, the engine falls silent and the door slowly opens. The area was silent aside from the chirps of crickets and the soft crunch of dirt under the group’s feet. 

* It was going to be a simple mission. Tracer and McCree would flank around to the side and back entrances respectively, taking out any security guards or surveillance people. Winston, Mei, and Mercy would infiltrate through the front, taking out any hired bodyguards or servants. Then they’d search the facility for the information they needed.

* But things seemed off, even before they broke in. The facility was dark, not a single guard patrolling the outer perimeter. They proceeded with the mission with caution, despite not encountering a single enemy. 

* _“Somethin’ ain’t right.”_ McCree says under his breath, peeking around a corner before continuing on with caution. 

* _“You got that right, love.”_ Tracer’s voice chimes into his earpiece. “From the looks of it, someone came through here before us. It’s a bloody mess!”

* And it was a bloody mess indeed. Papers strewn across the floor haphazardly, some stuck to the wall by blood. Computers shattered, furniture over-turned and broken. It was like a tornado came through there. It also seemed to be the only room that was significantly damaged, the rest of the facility going untouched. It simply looked like everyone had packed up and left.

*  _“Stay on your guard. Whoever did that could still be lurking around.”_ Winston warns, his group already beginning to search through the filing cabinets and slightly outdated computers in an office area. _“We’ve begun searching for any information that might shed some light on what exactly this company plans to do.”_

* _“Roger that.”_

* _“Understood.” McCree grunts._

* He began to search the few rooms on the upper floor. They were all empty, no surprise there. This mission was starting to look like more and more of a bust. He had a final room to check. He opened the door, noting that a bit of destruction happened in this room as well. 

* A bookshelf had been knocked over, one of the large windows broken. A cool gust of wind blows the curtains dramatically. In the center of the room was a wooden desk and a big, leather chair. Just as McCree is about to leave the room, the chair spins around, revealing a small figure lounging in it.

* “Oh hey, it’s the ingrate.” They smirk, tired eyes fixating on the cowboy as they sat up straight. 

* They tilt their head to the side as McCree aims his Peacekeeper at them. With a loud sigh they look down at a small screen, seemingly unfazed by the threat.

* “Took you guys long enough. Do you know how long I’ve been waiting here?” They complain. “And since when are you in Overwatch? Explains why no one’s heard from you—”

* “State your business.” McCree interrupts their rambling. 

* “I just wanna talk, love. To all of you.” They raised the screen they were holding, showing footage of Winston and friends downstairs. 

* “And why should I listen to what you have to say?”

* “It’s important.” They state matter of factly. “And I have the shit you guys are looking for. Class A information. Wouldn’t want it getting into the wrong hands.”

* McCree makes no move to contact his teammates, eyeing the stranger suspiciously. They seemed familiar somehow, and not in a good way.

* “Come on, you lot were a right bitch to find! Just hear me out!” They complained, suddenly standing. “Ya came all this way for some juicy details about Critane, and I’m willing to give it to you in exchange for some friendly words. I bet ya didn’t even know this company was called Critane.”

*  _“McCree, what is going on up there? We heard yelling.”_ Mercy suddenly interrupts his train of thought. 

* “…” McCree gives the person another glance, ignoring their seemingly meaningless rambling. _“There’s a girl up here. Says she wants to talk.”_

* “Tell them ‘bout the info!” They interrupt their own ramblings to butt in.

* “Shut up.”

* They raise their hands defensively and sit back down. McCree lowers his voice as he continues to discuss the situation with his team.

* _“She seems unarmed, but she’s also a likely candidate for the mess Tracer found.”_

* _“It won’t hurt to listen to her.”_ Winston says. _“She might be able to tell us more about this company.”_

* _“No kidding…”_

* _“Besides, we out number her. If she tries anything, we can take her down.”_ Mercy chimes in optimistically. 

* _“I’m up on the second floor, near the back. Looks like the boss’ office.”_ McCree directs.

* “You gonna point that gun at me the whole time? That’s no way to treat someone as cute as me.” The stranger teases. 

* McCree fires his gun, the bullet piercing the leather next to the person’s head. 

* “Right, message received.” They lean their head on their palm, finally ceasing their chatter.

*  _“Don’t pay that any mind.”_ McCree rolls his eyes. _“Just get on up here.”_

* The rest of the team makes their way up to the room, weapons ready in case this odd stranger tried to attack them. 

* “Finally.” They sat back up straight again. “The name’s Roadrash. You’re not the people I expected to meet tonight, but this’ll do.”

* “Let’s get to it already. What is it you want?” Tracer sighs impatiently. 

* “I wanna join Overwatch.”

* Roadrash is met with silence.

* “Gee, don’t all talk over each other.” They roll their eyes.

* “Did you just come here to waste our time?” McCree narrows his eyes at them.

* “No, I came because I wanted to talk. About joining Overwatch.” 

* Winston had a million questions running through his head. How did she know Overwatch was even active? Why does she want to join? _Who is she?_

* “Well, you’re out of luck. That’s not how things work.” McCree snaps back.

* “I don’t quite care how things work. I could be a useful asset to your organization with my uh… varied skill set. I’ve got tons of experience too, better than some inexperienced recruit.”

* “Experience don’t mean much. We got standards to uphold.”

* “Clearly they aren’t very high. They let _you_ join.”

* “Why you—”

* “Alright, alright. Why don’t we put a pin in that topic and come back to it later?” Tracer quickly tries to diffuse the situation. 

* McCree stares at Tracer for a moment. He sighs bitterly and lowers his weapon.

* “I can’t believe this treatment.” Roadrash scoffs. “After all I’ve done for you buncha ungrateful wankers.”

* “And what exactly have you done?” Winston questions.

* “Why, I saved your bloody lives.” 

* Roadrash crosses their arms and continues. “Critane knew you guys were coming. They hired a buncha blokes to kill you guys when you got here. I wasn’t gonna interfere, but like I said earlier it wasn’t easy finding you. I was supposed to be escorting some suit and his silly little flash drive, but I turned against him and stole it. Then I came back here, killed the blokes who were gonna kill you, and tied up any necessary lose ends… You’re welcome, by the way.”

* Mercy hums in thought. “You really went to some lengths to see us tonight.”

* “Yeah! The angel gets it!”

* “And where’s the flash drive you mentioned?” Tracer places her hands on her hips.

* Roadrash reaches under the desk, untaping the flash drive and holding it up briefly. “Right here, love.” They just as quickly close their fist around it. “So, now that we’ve gotten that out of the way, back to me joining Overwatch.”

* “I still don’t trust ‘em.” McCree scoffs. 

* “No one asked you, cowboy.” Roadrash retorts, standing and crossing the room to stand in front of Mercy. “Angel, you wanna know somethin’ fun? This flashdrives only half the puzzle that you need. All the info’s useless without the other one.”

* “Where are you going with this?” Mercy frowns, placing a hand on her pellet gun. 

* “Let’s make a deal. I’ll give you this flashdrive now, for being friendly. I’ll give you lot about a week to think things over, maybe do a background check if that’s what concerns you. When time is up, we’ll meet again—I’ll take care of the how—but I’d like an answer.” Roadrash holds up the flash drive, a devious grin on their face. “I’ll bring the other one, and you’ll let me know if I can join Overwatch.”

* Mercy hesitates for a moment, but does take the flashdrive. As Roadrash begins to walk away, McCree suddenly grabs their arm and holds them in place. 

* “I don’t know what kind of game you’re tryna play, coming in here giving orders and making ultimatums. Best believe you’re not just gonna prance out of here without giving some answers.” He growls.

* “Yeah, love. What’s the rush?” Tracer chimes in, moving in to Roadrash’s other side.

* “What can I say? I’m a busy person.” Roadrash shrugs.

* The energy-pac on their back suddenly lights up, the lights on their robotic arms giving off a light blue glow. McCree suddenly receives a sharp zap where he had hold of Roadrash, making him recoil more out of surprise than pain. 

* Roadrash makes a hasty retreat, surging backwards on their Wheelies. They go flying out the broken window, free-falling for a few seconds before bracing their hover shoes against the wall to slow their descent. Sparks fly as the metal shrieks and grind.

* “I’ll get ‘er—!”

* “Tracer, wait.” Winston holds up an arm to stop her. “I think she might be worth letting go. If she’s serious, we’ll be seeing her again soon.”

* “And if she’s not?”

* “Then she wouldn’t have gone through all this trouble. We’ve got a name. I’m sure Athena can find plenty information on her.”

* Tracer sighs, but decides to follow his lead. She trusted Winston after all.

* McCree, however, wasn’t okay with this on any level. While Roadrash was going on about deals and joining Overwatch, it suddenly clicked in his mind where he remembered them. He ran into them while doing some traveling. They were working with an unnamed organization, stealing tech from a nearby corporation. Regardless of who they were working for, they were no good. They had to have some ulterior motive for trying to join Overwatch.

* Could be a spy.

* He’d have to do some research of his own.

* 


End file.
